


The Quiet, Awful Truth

by One_Chicago_Fanfiction



Category: Chicago PD
Genre: Adam and Jay deal with grief, Alvin Olinsky's death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Chicago_Fanfiction/pseuds/One_Chicago_Fanfiction
Summary: After Alvin Olinsky's death, Jay and Adam share a moment of grief.
Relationships: Jay Halstead/Adam Ruzek
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	The Quiet, Awful Truth

Eventually, it was over. The case was done and the sun went down, and Adam pressed his head against the passenger window as Jay Halstead drove him home. They could rest now, the whole unit. Comfortable beds and warm apartments. Sex, booze, crappy television. Whatever they needed. Hell, whatever they goddamn pleased. Until the next case they were free, they were safe, and they were alive.

Everyone but Al.

Jay drove Adam home in a pained and breathless silence, and Alvin Olinsky was dead. 

When they pulled up outside Adam’s apartment, Adam looked up at the building and let out a shaky breath. He paused with his fingers against the door handle and tried not to think about how different he was, this person walking back in there at night compared to the person who’d left this morning. 

“You know, uh…” he began, not looking at Jay. “I got this picture—of me and Al. Think it was like, my second week in the unit. It’s sitting right there in my living room, man. I’m grinning like an idiot, and he’s just—Al. You know?”

“I know,” Jay breathed. “Think I took that picture.”

“Yeah?” Said Adam. “Could have sworn it was Voight.”

“Nah,” said Jay, and they fell into silence once more. Adam swallowed hard, stared up at his living room window—so small from down here—and thought about that photograph sitting on his unit, thought about Al’s face, his half smile, his arm slung around Adam’s shoulder. He thought about the time Al told him he was like a son to him. And he held back tears, right there in Jay’s car. “Ad? You want me to come in?”

“No, man,” Adam lied. “That’s okay. I mean, if you wanna be alone—“

“Come on,” Jay said, already moving to get out of the car. “Let’s go inside.”

When Voight broke the news about Al, Adam went numb. Numb, and cold and unable to speak, barely able to breathe. Jay had walked out, Kim had all but doubled over with the grief and Adam had gone to her, gone to her because he was strong, because all he knew was holding other people up. So that was what he did. 

But the moment his apartment door was closed behind him, all the numbness left Adam’s body. Suddenly all he felt was pain, was the realisation that without adrenaline, there was nothing left in him to stave off his emotions. No case to distract him, just the quiet, awful truth that his friend was gone forever. He felt exhausted, hollowed out, aching down to his bones. He felt like a part of himself had been torn away, felt like he couldn’t breathe. He braced one hand against the wall and pulled in the deepest breaths he could manage.

“Adam?” Jay said, and Adam shook his head, heart pounding, choking back a sob.

“He’s gone, Jay,” Adam said. “He’s—he’s—“

The moment Adam’s knees buckled, Jay’s arms were around him. The strength went out of Adam and he clung to Jay, the two of them on the floor together before Adam could even remember how they got there. 

“It’s okay, Adam,” Jay said on the floor, one arm around Adam’s shoulders, the other in his hair. 

“No, man,” Adam said. “No. No, none of this is okay. None of it. That was Al. Somebody murdered Al.” Sobs wracked through Adam’s body, his eyes stung with tears, his hands shook. And if it was possible, Jay held him even closer.

“I know,” he whispered, his lips against Adam’s temple. “I meant it’s okay to do this. It’s okay to mourn. You gotta go through it.”

“I just…” Adam started. “He had decades left, man. I don’t know what to do with that.” But he did know. Beneath the regrets, and all the messy grief, he knew exactly what he had to do with the fact Alvin Olinsky was dead. 

He had to live with it. 

And he would. He knew that. He’d lost people before, and in this job he knew he’d lose people again. They all would. He clung desperately to Jay, like Jay would be the next to disappear if Adam let go of him too soon. So they sat there like that until it was easier to breathe again, Jay’s fingers warm against the nape of Adam’s neck, his body strong as Adam leaned into it, and when he was ready to be strong again, when he was ready to pull himself up from the ground and look that photograph in the eye, Jay was at his side all the while. 

Jay followed him into the living room and stood at his side, one hand rubbing gentle circles against the small of Adam’s back as he did just that, as he pulled the picture out from the plethora of photos on the unit, and brushed his thumb over Al’s face. Adam looked so young in that picture, fresh faced and optimistic and probably a little full of himself. And he laughed, and he said nothing, wasn’t gonna stand here and apologise to a photograph, or tell the frozen image of someone he loved how much he’d loved them. 

Jay stood behind Adam then, both arms around his waist as he pressed a kiss to the point between Adam’s neck and his shoulder, then kept his face buried there as Adam held the picture in one hand and ran his fingers through Jay’s hair with the other. They all felt this. They were all hurting. 

Beneath all of that, Adam knew they’d be okay. Eventually, somehow, they would all be okay.


End file.
